


Volume Control

by lunatricity



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged up characters, Banter, Body Worship, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot, Rimming, fluff but mostly pwp, kuroo is a cheeseball, kuroo the smitten kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21938905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunatricity/pseuds/lunatricity
Summary: The depth of Tetsurou’s adoration of Kei, be he grumpy or stingy or rude, sometimes surprises even him. If there wereonething he could change about him, however...-------Or, someone once called Kurotsuki the filthiest HQ ship, and wouldn't you know that's just my jam.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 7
Kudos: 257





	Volume Control

“I’m home!”

Tetsurou’s call goes unanswered as he dispenses with his bag and jacket. Given the modest size of their apartment and that Kei’s coat is already hanging on its hook, this can be chalked up to only a few possibilities: his boyfriend is sleeping, in the shower, or listening to music.

The fact that Tetsurou can’t hear the shower running and that it’s barely past nine narrows that short list further. His suspicions are confirmed when he heads into the living room to find Kei laid out on their sofa, belly down with his phone in hand and his headphones on.

One of the first things Tetsurou had bought when they moved in together was a set of bluetooth speakers—ones Kenma assured him were worth the price. He’d wanted Kei to fill the apartment with the music he enjoys so much, hoping it would feel like home to him all the quicker for it. And the speakers get used, sure - when there’s cooking or chores to be done, times when they’re together but too busy for television or games or making out - but whenever Kei’s alone the old headphones come out once again.

Tetsurou’s not mad, though. He knows it’s a matter of comfort, that the familiar weight of the cushioned pads around his ears serve as blinkers, sealing Kei off from the outside world - even if ‘outside’ is all his to be had.

The other reason he’s not mad, right now in particular, is that Kei is only wearing a towel.

He sets the plastic bag he’s carrying down on the coffee table and it’s just enough movement to catch his boyfriend’s attention without startling him, making it safe for Tetsurou to step beside him and lean down.

It’s so simple, the way Kei glances up over the arm of his glasses, pushes the nearest earpad back with the very tips of his long, slim fingers. To anyone else, it wouldn’t even be worth noting really, but try telling that to Tetsurou’s heart— if you can stop it doing somersaults in his chest long enough. Kei tips his head up to meet Tetsurou for the kiss, and they both let it linger, Kei’s lips comfortingly warm after the chill night air. He hasn’t paused his music, and Tetsurou can hear the high echoing twang of guitars over a low, almost imperceptible bassline. No vocals, so one of his favoured prog-rock bands most likely. Melodic. Edgy.

When they break, Kei’s gaze slips past him straight to the bag; Tetsurou’s commute takes him through the heart of Tokyo, and he sometimes stops at fancy shops to bring them back sweet treats that look almost too good to eat.

“Later,” he says, because his own gaze has settled on something just as appetizing. He places a fingertip between Kei’s shoulder blades, feeling each bump of his spine as he drags it slowly lower. When it passes between the dimples on his lower back (so cute so cute so _cute_ ) he hears a familiar, disdainful click of a tongue and pauses, fingertip hooked beneath the top of the towel which sits low on Kei’s hips.

“Sooo, how was your _day?_ ” Tetsurou asks with a drawl and flash of teeth, but the words are really just an accessory to the actual question he’s posing:

_Which would you rather be doing, talking or touching?_

Kei must cotton on - damn sharp, he is - because he makes another sound, quieter but still unmistakably him; a huff, shortly followed by rustling as he pulls his headphones back into place. Alright, that works for Tetsurou.

To anyone else, it would be a brush off, a rude affront, but to Tetsurou, it’s simply Kei.

He and Kei hadn’t been dating long, were still operating long-distance and taking things slow even during the rare times they were together, when the question was first posed. ‘How can you put up with him?’ Maybe the words had been different but what Tetsurou remembers is how it made him _feel_. It was Lev who’d said it of course, fresh off the back of a volleyball meet Tetsurou’s schedule hadn’t permitted him to crash. Tact wasn’t one of Lev’s virtues, and though Tetsurou was usually tolerant of it, the question had summoned an icy wrath from him the likes of which he hadn’t known himself capable.

Kenma had thanked him after, in a round-about way that was typical of him, using all the tact Lev lacked. Apparently he was much easier to tolerate after the sobering encounter.

And it had served to give Tetsurou perspective, too. Made him recognise just how deep his feelings for Kei truly ran. How there wasn’t a part of him, snarky or biting or just plain rude, that he didn’t _revel_ in. Didn’t want to claim as his own, to just plain fucking _worship_.

Which brings him back to the present. Now that they’re on the same page, Tetsurou wastes no time in joining Kei on the sofa, kneeling on either side of one of his long legs and bowing to kiss the crease at the nape of his neck.

His hair is still a little damp, sweet with his shampoo when Tetsurou’s nose brushes into it. Coconut with a hint of honey. He’d dally there, breathing it in as long as Kei would permit but reminds himself that there’s so… so much more of him to enjoy.

‘More’ comes in the broad spread of Kei’s back, pale and unblemished save for a small mole just beneath his right shoulder blade. Tetsurou makes sure it isn’t missed as his lips place slow kisses down the path his finger had taken earlier.

Three years of highschool volleyball, as reluctant as Kei might have been at the start, have served his body well. No longer is he like a canvas stretched across a too-large frame, his skin now sitting comfortably over layers of hard-earned muscle instead. He isn’t bulky by any sense of the word, but lean and toned in a way which, in Tetsurou’s opinion at least, suits him much better than the waifish quality he’d embodied when they’d first met.

Still, it was that body which had caught Tetsurou’s attention when their teams had first faced off against each other. Standing taller than anyone else on the court, his potential and disinterest to pursue it obvious in equal measures in the way he played. It was witnessing that which spurred Tetsurou into pursuing Kei at the subsequent training camp, and… well, the rest, as they say, is history.

Shifting down once Kei’s back has been thoroughly peppered with kisses, Tetsurou tugs where the towel is folded beneath his hip; Kei makes absolutely no move to assist him, but that’s par for the course and he soon has it loose anyway, peeling the fabric away and to the side. It’s far more exciting than opening any cake box, a sentiment he knows Kei would not only disagree with but find quite distasteful. But then, Tetsurou’s had plenty of practice at making him discard opinions like that.

Thank goodness they’d invested in a long sofa, enough to accommodate him as he settles between Kei’s legs. Tetsurou’s teeth come down on the meat of Kei’s rump, as hard as he knows he can take, and it earns him the kind of reaction he’s come to expect. He looks up from beneath his lashes as Kei shoots him an over-the-shoulder glare, as if butter wouldn’t melt in the mouth which is currently soothing the spot with long, slow licks.

When he repeats the gesture on the other cheek, Kei shifts his headphones again.

“If I’d known you were hungry,” he reaches an arm back to swat at Tetsurou and misses as he nips again, this time on the more sensitive skin where ass meets thigh. “I’d have had dinner on the table.”

“Oh, I ate. You know what they say though, always room for desert. And what a _spread_ you’ve laid out--”

This time Kei’s fingers find their target, clamping Tetsurou’s nose between two knuckles until the laugh he gives comes out as a honk. Kei’s own nose wrinkles with disdain for the crude jokes, despite having lead with one himself; Tetsurou loves the way the expression hitches his glasses up.

“In that case” Kei wheedles, releasing his grip. “Why don’t you show me what’s in the bag?”

It’s a timely reminder - though doubtless not the one he intends - and Tetsurou’s eyes light up. Grin turning sly, he leans up on his elbows to reach for the bag and rummage until...

He pulls out a newly purchased bottle of lube.

Kei’s head flops forward with a long-suffering groan.

“We were running out! Don’t worry, there are other treats too,” Tetsurou chuckles, tucking the lube between himself and the sofa cushions and settling back down on his front. He cups Kei’s ass with both hands, thumbs stroking into the crease below before pushing upward, gathering it up to be as plump as it can.

“But before you can have your cake... I’m going to have _mine_.”

“Oh my actual God,” Kei says, words spilling out all together in an exasperated sigh. He rights his headphones and holds his phone up above his head, so that Tetsurou can watch as he turns the volume all the way up and thus demand an end to their ~~terrible~~ _brilliant_ banter.

It would surprise few to hear that Kei upholds impeccable standards of personal hygiene, and it’s something he’s only doubled-down on since realising… _just_ how much time Tetsurou likes to spend between his legs. ‘Like’ being the most passive way to describe it; whether it’s with his mouth or his hands or his cock, he can’t seem to keep himself away.

Kei’s doesn’t shy from telling him when enough is enough though, so he knows he’s welcome when he strokes his thumbs up unimpeded to spread his cheeks. The breathy sound Kei gives lets him know too, when he starts to kiss the tender skin he’s revealed, lips making soft noises for only him to hear as he lays them back and forth, to one side of the cleft then the other. It’s not about going in for the kill right away after all, and as eager as he is, he wants Kei to feel everything he’s going to do for him, so ramping up slowly will only serve them both well.

He’s not so cruel as to bite here, but he does let his teeth drag across sensitive skin, enjoys the budding flush left in their wake. Even when he isn’t touching he knows Kei can feel his breath, and he wields it to his advantage when he finally licks, up the inner curve of one cheek, only to blow on the wet trail after; he chuckles to feel goose-pimples rise under his palms, and Kei’s thighs tensing below him.

“You look so good, Kei,” he says, voice husky for only himself to hear, but Kei to feel. If he has any interest in what Tetsurou has to say he doesn’t show it, but that’s okay.

“So good,” he repeats, adjusting his grip to spread him freshly wide again.

“Can’t wait to be inside you, baby,” as he lowers his face to press between his cheeks, and finally drag his tongue over the perfect little pucker of his entrance.

Kei _moans_.

Tetsurou freezes, all the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as a shudder runs through him.

That…

That was definitely loud.

If - with more tact than, say, Lev - you asked Tetsurou what one thing he would change about Kei given the choice… It would be how tightly he keeps his responses under wraps. Of course there’s plenty to love about the reactions he gives, and Tetsurou does, he really _really_ does. But the common thread through all of them is that they’re _quiet_ , measured when possible, made up of gasps and breathy moans rather than wanton cries. More often than not, he comes with his teeth around a pillow or his shirt, or biting into his own hand or Tetsurou’s shoulder. Or not even making a sound at all, breath choked off as he shakes apart.

Tetsurou had brought it up, not long after they’d first started sleeping together, once Kei had turned eighteen. Kei had shrugged his questions off with lukewarm answers - he just wasn’t a loud person, or their families might hear, and the idea of it made him uncomfortable. Yet even now, living in their own apartment with a lone, half-deaf neighbour, nothing had changed.

This is new. This is a change.

Testing, hopeful, he dips his head again to flick his tongue out and _yes_ , Kei moans again, throaty and delicious. Tetsurou can’t help but answer it with one of his own, even if it falls on occupied ears. And, _oh_ , that’s _it_ \- it’s the headphones, it’s his _music_ , turned up to full. Kei can’t hear himself, how loud he’s being and it’s like Tetsurou’s birthday has come early, his whole body flushing hot and making him abruptly aware of how overdressed he is… how hard his cock is, trapped between his thigh and the sofa and straining against his jeans.

But he can endure. If he was eager before, it’s nothing compared to now. He buries his face between Kei’s cheeks, feeling the pucker of his entrance as he licks over and around it in teasing laps and slow, deliberate circles. He feels the push-back of his hips, hears the scrape of nails on fabric, but all expressions of Kei’s pleasure come second to the sounds he’s making: deep-throated moans and whining gasps, spilling out of him to fill the air around them. When Tetsurou schools his tongue from its loose, fluid movements to press forward with purpose, Kei _cries out_ at the shallow breach, back arching his hips into the sofa; Tetsurou has to still his own from rutting against the cushions, for fear he’ll come right there, into his briefs.

“Fuck,” he groans, tongue feeling thick in his mouth. He lets it rest there and lays sucking kisses down instead, hands kneading Kei’s ass, then stroking up and down the backs of his thighs. “You have no idea how good you sound, do you?”

He wishes he could do this all night - really, he does - but an ache’s starting to set into his jaw, his tongue’s movements becoming sluggish, clumsy. Good thing Kei had reminded him about the lube earlier, so that it’s right within reach. Sucking one last kiss into the meat of Kei’s ass, Tetsurou sits back up on his knees and yanks his shirt off. He undoes his jeans and pushes his briefs down just enough that his cock can spring free, and it’s such a relief, but still not enough to temper the sweet agony of remaining untouched. Maybe he’s a bit of a masochist.

He unseals the lube and starts to spread it on his fingers, looking Kei over as he does. At some point he’d slumped forward, and lays with one arm bent beneath his brow and the other hanging from the sofa, fingers caught on the cushions. Both his glasses and phone lay abandoned beside him, but crucially his playlist is still going. Good; as much as Tetsurou would love to talk and tease like they usually do, he wants to test just how much louder Kei can get, how far he can push this wonderful discovery.

Shifting forward, Tetsurou braces himself on one arm bent beside Kei’s head, and slides a finger inside him.

 _Filthy_. That’s the only way to describe the sound he makes - a low grunt which rises to a gasp - and, this time, Tetsurou’s right there to hear it, head bowed until his long bangs brush his shoulder. As he works the digit in and out he lowers further, to kiss the nape of Kei’s neck, nuzzle into hair that’s becoming freshly damp again, this time with sweat. When he adds a second finger, Kei’s head lolls to one side, and his brown eyes are blown dark when Tetsurou meets them, his lips slack and wet around a choked cry.

He’d usually want to draw this part out, feel Kei tighten around his fingers as he brings him to the edge - but not tonight. He needs to be inside him, like, ten minutes ago, and before he realises what’s going on and clams up. Withdrawing his fingers with a last kiss to Kei’s shoulder, he sits back and shoves his clothes down his thighs, fist twisting quick and light as he slicks his cock for fear even his hand will prove too much.

“The _towel_ ,” Kei whines, voice cracking, and Tetsurou realises that it’s still under him, must feel terribly coarse beneath his dick. At least it gives him something to wipe his fingers on as he tugs it free, Kei practically sobbing at the friction.

They’re definitely going to have to flip the cushions after this.

Kei’s ass, so thoroughly prepped and pleasured, gives to Tetsurou’s cock like it was _made_ for it, hot and squeezing just right. Even so, he’s patient and gives him time to adjust - well, both of them, since he needs it just as much - before leaning forward, slowly drawing out. With his hands braced above Kei’s shoulders he can put his all behind it when he drives back in, and so start long, downward thrusts, striking the sweet spot inside Kei with practiced ease. A good thing too, because he’d struggle if he had to think right now.

Intoxicating as the sounds have been so far, Tetsurou learns now that they were merely a warmup, like an orchestra’s gauging notes before the show, or a motor’s first sluggish morning revs. When he ruts against Kei’s prostate just so he _sobs_ , clawing at the cushions as if Tetsurou’s trying to drag him away rather than pounding him into them.

Poor guy, honestly. There he was, minding his own business, only to be set upon without remorse. Then again, he’s lived with Tetsurou long enough to know where lounging around in a towel will get him.

He _loves_ it.

He might, at times, claim he doesn’t - when he’s sore the morning after, or feeling particularly capricious. But there’s no hiding it, not in the moment; his body has always been honest but now his voice is too, spilling out unrestrained as Tetsurou fucks him into the cushions, just like he knows he likes it, hard and fast enough to drive out any contrary thoughts.

Kei twists beneath him, reaching to take himself in hand, and this Tetsurou needs to see. He shifts to let one of Kei’s legs out from between his own, still straddling the other as he draws the limb up to clutch against his chest, turning Kei onto his back. Kei’s cock is flushed and weeping, a thread of precum glistening where it bounces against his belly and Tetsurou watches him take it in hand, barely pumping, merely forming a loose fist for it to jerk into with every thrust into him.

“Ah-- _ah!_ Tets… _Tetsu--_ ” He sobs, the cable from his headphones whipping against his chest. The white of the headphones serves to highlight how flushed he’s become, and Tetsurou can see a trickling sheen at the corner of his lips. His hair is slicked to his forehead, and he’s such a pretty mess that Tetsurou knows he isn’t going to last long looking at him.

He wraps his arms around the leg pulled to his chest, thrusting deep into Kei’s heat and telling him all the things he _needs_ to, even though he knows he can’t hear.

“Love you Kei,”

“love you _so much_ ,”

“want to make you cum, going to fill you up--”

Kei’s eyes flutter closed beautifully and he grips his cock tight, letting his head tip back as the _sweetest_ , most honest cry yet keens from his lips and he cums in pretty spurts across himself.

Even without the way he tightens around him, that would be enough to tip Tetsurou over the edge. He drives his cock deep inside Kei, face turning to press against his calf but gaze never breaking from him as he moans, desperately, and cums into his clenching heat.

Only when he’s spilled to the last drop does he let his eyes slip closed, sucking in a breath he hadn’t known he was starved for and slumping as he lets it back out all in a rush. When he opens them again Kei’s peering up at him, gaze lidded and chest heaving where he drapes across the sofa. Gently letting his leg down, Tetsurou lets himself slip free and sinks to lay his body over Kei’s, mess be damned.

Finally, the headphones come off, replaced by Tetsurou’s fingers stroking up into Kei’s hair, and both of them breathe deep as he nuzzles him, cheek to sweaty cheek.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” his voice is quiet, pleasantly hoarse.

“That was incredible. How do you feel?”

“Mm…” Kei hums, turning his face into Tetsurou’s hair for a moment before looking away.

“I was… loud.”

If he wasn’t already flushed, Tetsurou bets he’d see colour rising to Kei’s cheeks now. As it is he doesn’t look _too_ bashful, any anxiety no doubt tempered by the afterglow which still surrounds them.

“You were,” Tetsurou chuckles fondly, tapping the plastic of the headphones where they lay to the side. “When did you realise?”

“...Pretty early on,” he admits after a moment, and even biting his lip can’t hide the small smile which curls upon it. Yep - post-sex, endorphine-giddy Kei is almost as much a reward as the act itself.

“But it… felt good.”

Tetsurou’s breath leaves him all at once, and he lets himself flop, head to Kei’s shoulder and body weighing down upon him. He receives a huffed grunt in his ear for it, but that does nothing to impinge upon the love-drunk grin that’s stretched broad across his lips.

“Yeah, it did,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to Kei’s neck before lifting his head. The overwhelming sense of pride he feels for his lover, that he’s taking steps toward better embracing his own pleasure, almost falters when he realises he’s still looking away.

Until he realises that Kei’s gaze is trained on a certain plastic bag, still sat on the coffee table.

Tetsurou starts to laugh, and continues to all the way into the kitchen and all the way back, two forks in hand and a fresh appetite blossoming inside him.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna chat about Tsukki, sometimes in a horny way? Me too, come hang out on twitter!!
> 
> I’d like to give special thanks to my RP buddy Cammy, without whom my return to writing would be super rusty! ILU Cammy!!
> 
> And also to my beta, Silly, for giving this the run-through <3 <3 <3 thank you both for your support!


End file.
